


Afternoon Nap

by glim



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Multi, Napping, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: It's the kind of freedom and care taking that the three of them can give each other that nobody else can.





	Afternoon Nap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [R00bs_Teacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00bs_Teacup/gifts).



It's well after noon when Peggy and Sam get back to the house. The air inside is just as warm and still as the air outside, but with a faint staleness to it that tells Peggy that Steve's not home, either, and, like she and Sam, hasn't been home since yesterday. For a moment, she thinks about opening a couple windows. 

Before she can move, however, Sam rests a hand on her shoulder. "Air conditioner," he says. "First. I don't care what you want next, but I need to cool off." 

"A shower," Peggy replies. "A very long, very soapy shower. I'll turn on the air and try to make it more comfortable in here." 

Sam laughs and squeezes her shoulder. They'd probably do the hug and kiss out of utter relief to be safe and home at this point, but they're both so hot, so sweaty, and so completely exhausted, they settle for holding hands painfully tight for a few seconds. Peggy can see it it in Sam's eyes before he says anything to her: he needs sleep, and quiet, and a few good hours where he's not Falcon. 

She can give him that. It's the kind of freedom and care taking that the three of them can give each other that nobody else can. 

Peggy drops her hand from Sam's when she can tell he's alright; a little bruised, tired, and probably dehydrated, but alright. When the waited for relief washes over her, she rubs her thumb against the palm of Sam's hand before slipping away to turn on the air and to lower some of the shades, particularly in the bedroom. 

Sam disappears into the bathroom, and Peggy gives him some time alone to wash off the frustration and sweat of the past twenty-four hours. She gives herself some time, too, to sit down on the edge of the bed and tug her hair out of the tight bun she has it pulled into, to pull off the last remnants of her combat gear, and to feel the tension ease out of her shoulders. When she gets into the shower, the bathroom is full of steam and the familiar scent of Sam's body wash; Sam's hands settle around her waist as she steps under the spray of hot water. He helps Peggy wash and rinse her hair, then lets out a low, tired groan when she rubs his chest and holds him in her arms under the hot water.

"You want dinner? Lunch? Hell if I know what meal we're on," Sam says as they dry off. "We had pancakes at three in the morning, that I know." 

"Later. I'm too tired to think about food. When Steve gets back."

"He's at the Tower." 

Peggy considers that for a moment. "Well, maybe he can stop on the way to bring us something. Did he text you?"

Sam nods. "He'll be home today. But you know what it's like up there. He lets himself get pulled into things, and then shows up five hours later with cold pizza and puppy dog eyes." 

"That's our boy." Peggy takes a towel from Sam to rub some of the damp from her hair, then rubs Sam's back and chest dry before guiding Sam into the bedroom. "It should be cooler now. Do you feel better?" 

"Yeah," Sam says. He thinks for a moment, then nods, and touches the side of Peggy's face. "You doing all right? You took a couple hits out there." 

Peggy glances away from the touch, then forces herself not to look away from Sam and not to brush off the question. "I'm tired, but I'm fine. Do you want painkillers? Or for me to rub your back some more?" 

Sam thinks for another moment, thumb running over the edge of Peggy's jawline. "I'm going to get us water. Then we're taking the longest nap." 

And so they do. Sam pulls on a pair of boxers, and tosses Peggy one of Steve's clean white v-neck tee shirts to sleep in. After a couple glasses of water each, they curl up on the cool sheets in the dim bedroom, talk quietly for a few minutes while Peggy strokes Sam's chest, and drift off asleep still half-talking to each other. 

Between the quiet hum of the air conditioner, the slanted sunlight slipping between the shades, and rise and fall of Sam's breathing next to her, Peggy's sure that afternoon nap in the middle of the hot summer is some of the best sleep she has had of late. Sam shifts next to her a few times, murmurs into her hair when she wakes up, and tugs her back to sleep with the warm press of his body. 

Once time when time she wakes up, Peggy hears the rise and fall of hushed voices. She listens to Sam and Steve talk, confident from the softness in Steve's voice that he came home safe and whole, and smiles against her pillow when she feels Steve lean over to kiss her on the shoulder. 

"Hey, I'm home," he whispers, kisses Peggy again, and tells her to go back to sleep. Before she dozes off again, Peggy hears Steve kiss Sam a few times, too, and feels him settle on the bed by Sam with a sigh. 

By the time they're all awake, the afternoon has blurred into early evening. Steve's still bleary with sleep, his head pillowed against Sam's chest, and he shrugs when Sam asks if he's ready for something to eat. 

"... brought stuff home," Steve murmurs. He turns his face into Sam's chest, but Peggy can see the smile at the corner of his mouth when she reaches over to stroke his rumpled hair. 

"He brought sandwiches," Sam says. 

"Then we'll do sandwiches for dinner." 

"Lunch. It was supposed to be lunch," Steve replies. 

"Sam and I had breakfast. Did you even manage that today?" Peggy laughs when Steve just makes a muffled noise of protest against Sam. "That's probably a no." 

Steve sighs a little, and Peggy curls herself in protectively closer to Sam on the bed. It doesn't really matter when they eat or even what they eat, sandwiches or pizza or leftovers from the last time three of them were all home for dinner together. They're close and safe, and the warm summer evening stretches out in front of them so that all they need to worry about for the next few long, lazy hours are each other.


End file.
